What Happens Now?
by Nika Dixon
Summary: In a galaxy where there were no tomorrows, was it worth hoping for forever? Jen wonders what happens now? A follow up to Lost Tribe. R/K.
1. Preface

**Preface**

This page is a little preface to my story, which is a follow up to the ending of Lost Tribe. It is for all the R/K shippers who have told me various stories of screaming at the TV, frightening spouses with screeches of dismay, and general dismay over the scene with Jen and Ronon after they return from the Daedalus.

To all the readers out there I share this little precursor to my tag to the episode.

I grew up staunchly Roman Catholic. I never smoked, didn't drink until I was of legal age, never stayed out late, never got in trouble. I always did my homework, went to classes on time, and was on a first name basis with all my teachers. I attended advanced classes and thought education was very important.

When I went away to school there was a guy in my class who was basically, the exact opposite. He was by all accounts, the bad boy. He skipped school to party with his friends. He played guitar and sang in a punk band. He rode a motorcycle (even in the winter). He would sit behind me in class and kick my chair... rip pages out of my binder to write song lyrics across the page and hand them back to me. He hardly ever talked, except in passing. Yet he always seemed to be at the same parties and school functions. And he always seemed to be hovering around me like a shadow. He was nice, sure. Wasn't the kind of guy to purposefully hurt anyone. But if one of his friends was in trouble, he'd be there in an instant to back them up, no questions asked. He beat a guy up at a party once who was really bothering me. He was very smart... but never really showed it. He wasn't a hand-holding, kissy-face in public kind of guy.

And as I told myself... not my type.

There was another guy in class, a clean cut type... cute... smart... always in front of the crowd, making people laugh... Girls following him about... including me. He was more my type, right? Went to class, studied, was the student body president.

But meanwhile in the background, there was always the biker boy. I told him I wasn't interested in anything other than being a friend. My girlfriends told him I wasn't interested. He'd just shrug and wander off, but the next day he'd be right back there again. We'd hang out as part of the group, and I'd talk to him if it came up. But I refused to give him anything other than just friendship. Because remember, he wasn't my type.

This went on for a year before school broke for summer... and when I went home for summer... I discovered something.

He wasn't there.

I _noticed _he wasn't there.

I _missed _him not being there.

Did I notice that the clean-cut guy was gone? No. But I sure as hell noticed that the biker boy wasn't around. I missed hearing him. I missed seeing him. I missed having him write bizarre lyrics on my notes. I missed him bugging me. I just generally... missed him. It was like having this little hole inside. A piece of me that wasn't complete.

The thought that he wouldn't be there ever again actually, physically, hurt.

So what came out of that realization?

Well... next year will be our 20th anniversary.

He still plays in a band. He still rides a motorcycle (only now I have one, too). He'll still beat the tar out of anyone who goes after what's his. He's swapped football for hockey (and now I play too). He still doesn't hold hands or play kissy face in public... but that's okay. Because he's all mine. And I'll love him forever.

So, my dear R/K fanatics... fear not. There is truth in life, and in life there is truth.

Sometimes we just have to wait to see it!

And now -- on with the tag!

- Nika


	2. Tag

"How long… has he been… down?" Jen huffed, running as fast as she could behind Teyla, her backpack bouncing painfully against her lower back and shoulders. A brief thought that it would be bruised tomorrow passed by as quickly as the landscape she passed through.

"We believe an hour." Teyla replied over her shoulder, sliding around a large trunk. "We do not know for sure. He did not tell us he was injured…"

_Oh god. _

Too much could happen in an hour. Too much for the human body to deal with. And human he was. Even though he tried to pretend differently.

Damn him.

Damn him and his stubbornness.

Jen scrambled up the small incline, her fingertips scraping across the rough bark of the trees as she fought to pull herself up. The burn in her thighs increased with each lifted step as her toes slipped in the soft earth.

Reaching the crest she hesitated only the barest of moments before following Teyla down the far side. Half sliding, half stepping, she struggled to find balance as the weight of her rucksack forced her to lean farther forward than she would have liked. Dirt slid beneath her feet and she landed hard on her tailbone. Grunting she shoved her hands into the damp, slick earth and pushed herself back onto her feet.

There wasn't time to be weak.

There wasn't time.

Distant staccato echoes of P90 fire bounced around the trees, twisting away their original direction. It came from all over… it came from nowhere. The sounds were faint and faded. A distance away. A lifetime away.

A sharp, answering volley of rifle shot said someone was still fighting… but she knew it wouldn't last. Voices in her ear confirmed that only a handful of mercenaries remained alive now… and musket balls were no match for P90's and cloaked jumpers.

But they _were _a match against unprotected human flesh.

Lead balls fired at a high rate of speed from a close enough proximity could pierce flesh and tear through muscle and organs.

She'd known it was bad when they'd called for a surgeon.

She'd known it was bad when they'd called for her specifically.

She just hadn't known it was him.

Until she'd stepped through the gate.

A shock of frigid water flowed over her boots and sloshed around her toes and ankles, stinging with icy sharpness. She ran behind Teyla, splashes of water from the Athosian soaking Jen's pant legs, her own shoes flinging water back in kind.

With her lungs stretching for oxygen, the acrid smells of burning wood and cloth replaced the heady smell of pine and wet dirt, and she coughed. The air was clouding with misty trails of smoke, which thickened and drifted around them as they ran. It twisted past their bodies, dropping fragments of ash into the cold stream.

A narrow strip of land grew out of the tree line, exposing a flattened plateau, fires still smoldering out of the charred ground. They clambered up the low bank and ran past the remains of a once proud vegetable garden, now crushed beneath the burnt out shell of a massive tree.

Village huts once protected in the shadows of trees were hollow husks flanked by charred and still burning stumps. Several villagers stood in the center of the destruction… dirty clothes and tear streaked cheeks as they surveyed their lost lives.

In the far corner, near a half destroyed hut, a young woman cradling a toddler tightly in her arms rocked back and forth on her heels, her face stretched with worry and stunned silence. At her side, a boy of no more than ten stood stiff and straight, his face smudged with dirt, his fingers tightly gripping a rifle that was nearly as tall as he was.

He watched their approach with hesitation, only his mother's hand on his shoulder giving him reassurance. They stepped aside, revealing the still form of the man lying on the ground behind them.

_Ronon_.

Jen slammed to a stop beside him, the cold mud caking her pants as she dropped to her knees next to his chest. The hoarse, ragged breathing that escaped his throat tore into her lungs and chest like fire. Blood soaked his shoulder and his waist, staining the cloth and his hand which was lying loosely across his side.

He was too quiet.

Too pale.

Too still.

"He saved our lives. He saved my son." The woman asked quickly, her voice cracking. "Can you help him?"

Teyla spoke softly to the woman, pulling her away.

Their voices lost directness, and sounds and smells disappeared as Jen ripped into her knapsack. Training took over, shoving her emotions to the side. Two bullet holes. One exit wound. Breathing labored. Blood lost.

She needed her operating room. She needed a sterile environment. She needed tools and proper equipment and everything she couldn't carry with her.

Stop the bleeding…

Her fingers worked in automation.

Frantic. Robotic.

Emotions crashed through her while she worked… too strong to ignore… too strong to push away. She was human. She wasn't a machine. She couldn't do this. She had to do this. There was too much to say. She hadn't the chance. She hadn't the time. She'd put it off until it was too late and now it might be…

Never…

She'd panicked. She'd completely panicked. She'd pushed him away out of fear and misunderstanding. Fear. Adrenaline. Insanity. She still had no idea what prompted her to blurt that out. How was she supposed to know he'd just walk away like that? He _never_ just walked away. From anything! He was supposed to be the strong one. He wasn't supposed to just leave. But what did she really expect to happen? God she was so confused. She didn't have time to be confused. He needed her.

_Damn you Ronon. Don't you dare die on me. I can't lose you. I won't lose you. Don't you dare leave me here alone. Damn it. Don't you leave me alone, you hear me?_

"Not… alone…"

Her eyes shot up, latex-cloaked fingers frozen against his side. Pain reflected deep within his eyes as he watched her through half open lids.

"Ronon." She exhaled. "It's okay." She nodded, her voice hitching. "I'm here. Everything's going to be fine. Stay with me okay?"

"Don't cry…" He muttered, his hand weakly raising off the ground a few inches before dropping back into the mud.

"I'm not crying…" She smiled through the tears that were coursing down her face, quickly wiping her cheeks on her shoulders. "Doctor's don't cry."

His eyes fluttered closed and she reached for his face but he didn't respond. "Ronon? Come on Ronon. Stay with me. You have to stay with me. Please? Ronon?"

But he was gone again. Lost into the oblivion.

Her hands continued to work, tearing open packages of gauze. Pressure… pulse… IV… everything was concise and purposeful.

She needed them to hurry.

She needed that jumper.

She needed more time.

_Damn you, you stubborn idiot. You can't stop bullets. What ever would prompt you to think you could stop a bullet? You're not superman. _

"Damn it Teyla, where's my Jumper?!"

"Five minutes." Came the reply to her right.

_Five minutes. Five minutes. Too much time. God I'm sorry. Ronon, I'm sorry. Please hang in there. Only five more minutes. Not long. Five minutes and we'll have you back on Atlantis. Please stay with me. _

_God I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I'm sorry…_

The chant escaped her lips while she worked, blood smearing against her forehead as she wiped the chilled sweat from her brow with the back of her sleeve.

"What… sorry for?"

The soft croak made her smile as she leaned closer, wrapping a gauze dressing around the through-and-through hole in his upper arm. His eyes fell closed again, shooting pain through her mind and heart. It was bad… he'd lost so much blood. Too much.

"Ronon? Come on, Ronon… stay with me!"

She babbled… she knew she was babbling… but she couldn't stop. Her hands worked without instruction while her mind skipped stones across her vocal cords.

"I'm sorry for everything. Sorry for anything. Sorry for making you angry. For hurting you. For not being strong enough. You're going to be fine. I'm not going to lose you. I won't let you leave me, damn it. I'm no good at this. I don't know what to do. I don't know how to act. I don't have any experience. No skills. I don't do relationships. How am I supposed to know what to do? I don't know how people are supposed to act. What do I know? I don't know what I want! You freaked me out and I panicked. I'm sorry. Damn it I'm sorry. Please just stay with me…"

"Stay with you?" He croaked and she caught the barest hint of a grin. "People might talk…" Then he coughed, then winced against the pain. "Hurts… to breathe."

"I know. I know. You're going to be fine. Just say with me, okay? Don't you give up on me, you hear me? Don't you dare give up!"

"I… I don't… give up."

She turned towards Teyla, who was running towards a quickly descending Jumper, pointing it towards the only safe landing spot. The narrow stream.

"Yeah well you sure as hell gave up on me pretty fast." Jen turned back towards him.

"You said… interested in someone else?" He closed his eyes again and she grabbed his chin. His eyes blinked open, drawing on hers. He inhaled, his breath raspy and difficult.

"Since when do you give up that easily?"

"Who said… I gave up?" The corner of his mouth raised slightly. "Not… over yet."

"Prove it. " She twisted around, gesturing wildly at the medical team descending from the open hatch of the jumper, her mind already prepping for the operation.

"Fine." Ronon croaked. "I will."

"Good." She looked down into his eyes, momentarily distracted with their intensity before the stretcher hit the ground beside him. With a hitch in his breath he closed his eyes again.

"Ronon?" She called out. "Ronon?"

But he was gone again.

-.-

Hours later, Jen didn't have the energy to do much more than nod to the group gathered at the window along the second floor. But it was enough. Smiles broke out amongst the flurry of one armed hugs and back patting.

It was going to be fine.

_He_ was going to be fine.

As she moved mechanically through the clean up, she couldn't help but wonder what was left. What would be salvaged. Would he remember? Would he care? Had she gone too far to turn back? Had she saved his life only to lose him to her own ignorance?

In the dimness of the recovery room, she stared down at the man resting in the bed before her. The starkness of the sterile white environment was crushed beneath the power he still represented, even in sleep. As its sole occupant he still managed to overpower the room in its entirety.

Or maybe it was just her.

With everything that passed behind her, hindsight told her she'd been stupid. Thinking she'd lost him left a hole in her heart. A hole she didn't know how to mend.

And that thought scared her more than anything else.

With a deep breath she backed away, questions flipping through her mind like the pages of a picture book.

How could she know what she wanted, when she didn't even know who she was anymore?

How could she truly be herself if she couldn't heal what was broken?

How could she be whole for someone else was if she wasn't whole herself?

How could she choose when she didn't know what she was choosing for?

In a galaxy where there were no tomorrows, was it worth hoping for forever?

And the last thought that passed as the doors closed behind her…

What happens now?


End file.
